Goodnight, My Angel
by Masquerading as Quality
Summary: Stripped of her freedom, her name, and what little life she has ever known, Briar Rose longs for some semblance of agency, and she has but one thing to offer in exchange for it: vengeance. [Femmeslash, contains some dark themes right from the start.]
**A/N:** Haha I don't even know what to say. Usually the Maleficent/Aurora I write ends up being kind of sad and sweet. So here is this, instead. Dark and vaguely smutty.

* * *

"What do you want?"

Something in her changed abruptly. She was no longer smiling, no longer malicious and amused. Her dramatic brows were furrowed, her eyes narrowed, equal parts suspicion and contempt.

Rose approached her with sure steps. She would not be deterred by something as common as fear of things she did not understand. There was so little in this world she had been permitted to understand. "A favour."

Another abrupt change, from near-fury to near-mania. Maleficent let out a sharp bark of a laugh. "Very well, princess," she sneered. "You have my attention. What makes you think I would grant you a favour?"

Rose's lower lip began to tremble. She bit it for a moment and averted her eyes. "You want revenge."

Maleficent's cruel smile fell. She raised one eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest. "Go on."

Rose took another step forward, emboldened by this favourable shift in her circumstances. "I am with child," she began.

Maleficent's lip curled. "Warmest congratulations."

Now it was Rose's turn to frown. "Do you think I want this?" she dared to ask, incredulous. "I want..."

It was dreadful, what she wanted. It would break Phillip's heart. It would break her estranged parents' hearts, and the hearts of her beloved aunts. It was dreadful, and the words caught in her throat. But she was so _young_. She was so young and the doctors told her to pray and to hope and to stay in bed, because it would take a miracle for her to give birth to twins and to live.

"I don't want to die," Rose said at last. Her voice was tremulous with unshed tears.

"I see." Maleficent was suddenly much closer than she had been before. She was very tall—unnaturally so—and she seemed to loom over Rose without even making any effort to do so.

Rose swallowed her tears and looked up into Maleficent's eyes. They were black as pitch, and the whites seemed to glow a strange yellowish-green, like the eyes of an animal. Maleficent regarded her now with interest, and this was infinitely more frightening than fury.

"It will break their hearts. All of them." It was her offer, her bargaining chip.

Maleficent tilted her head studiously. "But not yours?" Her eyes bored into Rose's, and Rose shivered.

"Perhaps..." she breathed. "Perhaps a little." Perhaps a lot. But oh, Rose's heart had already been broken a hundred different ways. She didn't know what was true and what was not anymore, and she wasn't certain she ever would. Not after she'd learned that everything she believed was one enormous lie. How could she believe anything anymore?

Well. If her aunts and her parents and her husband thought that Rose was but a body, but a vessel for the Princess Aurora and the future of the kingdom, they had another thing coming. Briar Rose would not be a pawn in the kingdom's game. Briar Rose would not lay down and die so that Princess Aurora could live.

She shook her head firmly. "I don't want to die," she said again. "I've scarcely even lived."

Maleficent was still studying her, and curiosity caused her eyes to glitter dangerously. "You don't want to die," she echoed quietly, "and so you come to me."

"If you wanted me to die," Rose could not quite meet Maleficent's eyes to say this, "I'd be dead."

"An astute observation." She was even closer now. In a terrifying way, she was beautiful. Most people did not become more beautiful at this distance, but Maleficent did. Her features were flawless, perfectly symmetrical, and dramatic even when her expression was more or less neutral.

Maleficent's hands were long and thin like the rest of her. Her cold fingertips lightly touched the side of Rose's face, and they brought with them the faint tingle of magic—foreign, frightening, thrilling. Rose grasped Maleficent's wrist in what she fully realized would be a vain attempt to stop her. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Fear not, princess." Another dramatic shift in tone. This one felt like something Rose had experienced before, but only in a dream—or perhaps in a fraction of reality she did not fully remember. Maleficent's voice resonated warm and low and sent shivers through Rose's body, and she began to wonder why she would fear anything at all if that intoxicating voice told her that she needn't. "I shall grant you your favour."

Favour. What favour was greater than this bliss? Oh. _Oh!_ But no, _no_ , Rose did not want to feel that same dizzying drowsiness that plagued her day in and day out. She did not want her husband or her aunts or her parents to tell her she must have been dreaming, to force her to stay in bed, to allow her to drift in and out of reality without interference.

"No..." she managed. "No, wait."

Through heavy-lidded eyes, she saw Maleficent quirk one eyebrow. Mockery. "Have you changed your mind?"

The implication was that even if she had, it was far too late now. Of course Rose knew this. She'd had a grueling journey's worth of time to change her mind. Perhaps she didn't know many things, but she knew what it was to offer something to someone who wanted it more than anything.

"No, no, but..." Rose blinked a few times, struggled to battle the onset of slumber. "Let me...let me stay awake. Please."

Maleficent threaded her fingers through Rose's hair She cradled Rose's head in her hand, and Rose could feel the fingertips of her other hand as they traveled along Rose's collarbone, over her sternum, between her breasts, and at last landed on her swollen abdomen. The drowsiness was beginning to recede, and though Rose's head cleared somewhat, she remained overwhelmed by the sensuality of this gesture and by the intensity in Maleficent's eyes as she gazed down upon her.

"As you wish, my pet," Maleficent murmured with a small, subtle smile. Another sensation began to seep into Rose's stomach. At first it was but a mild ache, an inconsequential discomfort, but it only grew, and it only spread, and Maleficent's grip on Rose's hair only tightened as Rose's knees began to buckle beneath her.

"Oh, God," Rose whimpered. "Oh, God, what is this?" She felt tears welling in her eyes, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. She felt a white-hot fire coursing through her veins, and it was all she could do not to scream as discomfort turned to pain and pain into agony. Rose grasped Maleficent's arms and dug her fingernails in, and Maleficent's smile widened.

"In thanks for your kind offer of vengeance," she said sweetly, "I thought I might spare you the pain."

Rose could bear this torment in silence no longer. She threw her head back and screamed. Maleficent's fingers were still tangled in her hair, and though Rose had thought she had a tight grip before, that had been nothing to what ensued. She locked eyes with Maleficent again, and the onslaught of emotions she experienced in response to that small, near-imperceptible smirk—beautiful and terrifying as the rest of her—was almost more overwhelming than the pain pulsating through her lower body.

"But since you asked so nicely," Maleficent continued, "why should I deny myself the pleasure of your anguish?"

Rose would not have known what to say in response even if she had been able. She sobbed incoherent pleas for mercy, but even her thoughts did not form words.

"There, there, my sweet princess," Maleficent cooed, and somehow, the pain grew and spread even further. "Soon we shall both have what we desire."

When the pain began to ebb, Rose felt it immediately. Even the slightest improvement seemed an enormous relief, and Rose's tortured screams quickly turned to longing moans, which then quieted to shuddering sighs. Her legs shook from the strain of holding her upright, and she grasped onto Maleficent's arms even tighter. Her eyes opened wide, and she blinked away the tears so that she could witness that horrifying, infuriating, alluring face with black eyes half-closed and red lips deliciously parted.

She was going to live. Her body felt strange and light, and her stomach felt as though a large part of it had been carved out. They were gone, then. Both of them. And she was going to live.

Rose steadied herself as much as she could. Her hands made a slow and strenuous journey up the considerable length of Maleficent's arms, clutching at them the whole way. They rested a moment upon her angular shoulders, and wrapped tightly around her long, slender neck. Maleficent did not loosen her grip on the hair at the base of Rose's neck, but she wrapped her other arm tightly around Rose's waist. Rose drew herself up onto her tiptoes, supported almost entirely by Maleficent's arm, and all but dragged Maleficent down so that she could kiss her.

Maleficent froze for an instant. Her arms and her shoulders stiffened. But as quickly as it had been, it had gone, just like all those other wild disparities that threw Rose off balance again and again. Maleficent's grip around Rose's waist tightened, and Rose wasn't certain her toes were even touching the ground anymore. Maleficent pulled at Rose's hair, but after what she had just experienced, Rose was numb to lesser forms of pain. She obediently leaned her head back further, and Maleficent kissed her harder and more deeply than anyone had ever kissed her or would ever kiss her again.

Thoughts of fidelity crossed her mind, of loyalty she ought to uphold to the man who would lay down his life for hers—or more precisely, for her beauty and her innocence, for hers was no life worth living. Thoughts of madness followed, for why when she was so loved and so adored should she seek out someone whose eyes glittered with lust at the sight of her misery?

Nevertheless, she felt that familiar tingle of magic accompanied by the silky caress of her dress as it slipped from her shoulders, and she was only too eager to help it along. Rose had no magic with which to respond in kind, and her ineffectual tugging at the sturdy fabric of Maleficent's cloak served no purpose but to amuse her tormentor further. Rose bared her teeth in an approximation of a snarl, but Maleficent's low, chilling chuckle and the feeling of her cold hands against the bare flesh of Rose's lower back rendered this expression even more useless than it had been to begin with.

Rose began to sink to the floor, as Maleficent's hands had begun to roam and therefore no longer held her up, and Maleficent followed her down with captivating grace. The floor was cold and unyielding, but bizarrely devoid of dirt or grime, and Maleficent's robes cascaded over Rose's skin like heavy blankets that shielded her nakedness from the chill. She kissed Rose's lips almost gently, but there was a deeper possessiveness in the gesture. It was a quiet, insidious reminder that Rose had twice now made the decision to offer Maleficent something. The first time, it was something she wanted; the second time, something she would take, if only because she could.

And really, it should have come as no surprise that Maleficent's touch could be pleasing. That she pressed her lips to the exact spot on Rose's neck that sent her mind and body reeling, or that her dexterous fingers knew how hard to squeeze and how softly to caress, were given, in a way. Maleficent was said to know so much about so many things—why not this, as well?

When Maleficent's hand trailed down between Rose's legs, Rose threw back her head and moaned. She felt sore and wretched, yet she ached for the touch a thousand times more than it pained her. Her hands continued to pick helplessly at Maleficent's robes, and " _Please_ ," she wailed as those long, elegant fingers pushed into her and deftly found just the right angles and rhythms to render her breathless. "Please, please, oh God, please..."

Rose felt Maleficent's lips curl into a smirk against the tender flesh of her neck, and she raised her head to gaze upon Rose's face. "What is it, my pet?" Still she made no secret of her amusement, yet Rose was powerless even to feign resistance. "Do you beg me for mercy?"

And still the implication was clear. There would be no mercy. Again Rose wondered why she delighted in it. Surely Maleficent had granted her wish now, but she would just as soon have watched her die if it had suited her better. Surely Maleficent's touch awoke in her a kind of aching pleasure she had never known, but only because to see Rose screaming in agony had thrilled her in what appeared from her expression to be exactly the same way.

But if Rose got what she desired and did not die, and if for a moment or two she could not be Princess Aurora, who had a loving husband and mother and father and fairy aunts and two children who would kill her and carry on her tragic legacy, but Briar Rose, who knew naught but fairies and secrets and the forest, who lusted after her tormentor-turned-saviour, and who would use Aurora's children to buy herself some freedom, then who was she to complain?

"No," Rose panted. "No, no, let me..." her words were momentarily swallowed by a high-pitched keening sound she hardly recognized as belonging to her. "Let me touch you," she pleaded. "Let me thank you."

The smile that played upon Maleficent's features was somehow different from the ones that had come before. It was almost soft, almost gentle, and very genuine in a way Rose could not fully comprehend. It was as though Rose's words had satisfied her in a deep and far-reaching manner. Gradually, the fabric of Maleficent's robes began to yield to Rose's efforts. They fell away like fine satin, and Rose's nails abruptly dug into the soft skin of Maleficent's back. She dragged her hands downward, examined the prominent ribcage, the dramatic dip at the waist, and the small, subtle angle of the hips. She marked them all with deep scratches as she went, but nothing she did seemed to phase Maleficent.

The rhythm of her fingers had slowed for a few moments, but now it began to pick up again. Rose gave up on her fruitless efforts to repay the pain she had been dealt. She threw her arms about Maleficent's shoulders and buried her face in Maleficent's neck to suppress a low groan, and when she felt that even this was not enough contact between her skin and Maleficent's, she wrapped her legs around Maleficent's waist.

"Come now, my pet," Maleficent whispered into Rose's ear. "You must uphold your end of the bargain. Show me how grateful you are for what I have done. Robbed you of your family and your given name, hunted you ceaselessly as though you were a wanted criminal, cursed you with a hundred years of slumber..."

 _Yes_ , thought Rose, _and now I have finally turned the tables_.

"...murdered the children who grew in your womb and watched you nearly die from pain, and both of these at your own behest..."

Rose would not die. Rose would not die to save Princess Aurora's children, for as far as she was concerned, that was what they would have been. After all, when Phillip made love to her, Aurora was the name he moaned in Rose's ear.

"...and now you cling to me and you plead with me, not for mercy, but to afford you the opportunity to express your gratitude."

"Yes," Rose hissed aloud.

Maleficent pushed her roughly to the ground and held her down by the throat. Rose's eyes went suddenly wide and she was instantly met with black eyes glittering dangerously and lovely features curled into a frightening sneer. And still those graceful, dexterous fingers moved inside of her without even a hitch.

"Yes?" she echoed, and even if Rose had been in full possession of her senses, she would not have known how to begin to decipher the multitude of emotions contained within this single word.

Rose's brow knitted with fear as she began to experience a distinctive shortage of breath and she nodded vehemently. "Yes," she managed, a high, thin sound—literally strangled. And then— " _Yes_."

Rose realized now that she hadn't known what it meant to climax before. She'd heard stories, read about the idea in the thin disguise of pretty prose, even seen it manifested on her husband's face in the light of the moon as it streamed in from the balcony in her room. But she had never experienced anything even remotely similar. For an instant, based solely upon the look in her eyes, she was certain Maleficent would snap her neck. She decided there were worse ways to die, and that she would rather leave this world with a shuddering cry of "yes" than simply slip into unconsciousness with nothing but vague unhappiness as her legacy. It felt victorious, in a way. At least Rose had chosen this.

All at once, though, Rose's mind and vision cleared. She was suddenly acutely aware of the cold and of her nakedness, and Maleficent was nowhere to be seen. Rose began to wonder whether she had lost consciousness somewhere along the way to the Forbidden Mountain, whether this was all just some tortured fever dream, but the strange hollowness in her stomach and the drying blood that clung to the insides of her thighs told her that she had completed what she set out to do.

Inexplicably, she drew her knees up to her chest and began to weep. Whether it was for what she had done, for the children she had so coldly offered up to the beast, or merely for herself and the danger she courted, she could not say.


End file.
